Yesterday I was sick. Not the “I can’t leave the bathroom because I’m barfing too much” kind, but the “I can’t even drag myself through a work day because I feel so gross and achy” kind. When I was in college, and the few years I lived by myself afterwards, whenever I got sick I immediately regressed back to being about 5 years old. I would lie in bed, my brain continuously chanting “I want my mom” as I moaned pitifully over the fact that I had to take care of my poor, sick self.
And then I met this guy and we got married.
And now I have someone who woke up with me when my alarm went off to ask me how I felt, who cuddled me back to sleep after I called in sick to work, who brought me mug after mug of tea, glasses of water, Ibuprofen, zinc and who continuously asked me “how are you feeling babe, any better?” as if by sheer will his strong desire to have me get better would be all it took.
Getting sick still sucks, but it’s a whole lot better now that he’s around.